


The Sweetrobin Bungalow

by LeighBee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Football, Car Accident, F/M, Hollywood, Joffrey is his own warning, Lady is Sandor's dog, Medical marijuana, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Domestic Violence, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stranger is Sansa's cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighBee/pseuds/LeighBee
Summary: A modern AU in which military might = football prowess and the Vale is actually an historic Hollywood Studio being run by a self-made climber called Littlefinger. (Though really it's less about those things and more about a couple of loners figuring out they should probably just fall in love already)More specifically...Years after her family was decimated by two very public tragedies, Alayne Stone (formerly Sansa Stark) is hiding out from the real world on the backlot of her Uncle Petyr's film studio.Sandor Clegane is a disgraced former pro athlete making a new life as a stunt coordinator on movies he wouldn't see if you paid him (which they do).Bound by tragedy and regret (sounds fun, right?), they're each what the other needs to find redemption and forgiveness.





	1. Prologue

In her dreams the deer was still alive. Always.

  
Had it been that night? Surely not. Even if it had survived the impact of the first car, it was highly unlikely that it could’ve survived the second. And there the poor thing was — in the midst of headlining its own tragic demise — when it was swiftly upstaged, relegated to the footnotes of an even greater tragedy. Perhaps not to the deer. Or even to the world at large. People often took grim delight in the spectacular downfall of strangers they claimed to admire, but mostly just envied. But it was a greater tragedy to Sansa. That was the moment she lost everyone. Even the ones that lived.

  
But in her dreams, the deer was returned to center stage, bathed in the soft spotlight of Sansa’s attention. She cradled its slender neck across her lap, soothing her hand down its hard muscles, its too-quick heartbeat. Sometimes she thought she glimpsed Arya in its deep brown eyes. Other times, it was her mother. Maybe that’s why she ignored the panic that bloomed in her chest. Why even as she realized what was coming, she never made any move to escape as the animal reared back and rammed its antlers through her chest.

  
Or maybe she just wanted to see them all again, to hold onto whatever she glimpsed in the deer’s eyes until the moment it destroyed her.


	2. Morning at the Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alayne Stone is:  
> A) blonde  
> B) a budding marijuana enthusiast  
> C) in denial about having a cat  
> D) living in her office  
> She's actually E) all of the above.

**ALAYNE I**

* * *

Alayne Stone awoke with a start. As far as recurring nightmares went, it actually wasn’t so bad. If she could, she’d choose deer over pretty much any of the other options. She patted around on the nightstand for her phone.  
  
4:18 AM. _Close enough_ , she thought with a smirk. Using her phone as a flashlight, she sifted through the top drawer of the nightstand. Crumpled receipts, a few small bottles of the essential oils Myranda was so fervently selling last year, and finally the small black tin she wanted: chocolate covered blueberries. With just a smidge of cannabis. _If Catelyn Stark could see me now…_

Unfortunately there were only two little morsels left inside. Over the months she’d been using the pot — “Medical marijuana,” Meera would correct — to keep her anxiety at bay, she’d developed a tolerance. Ten milligrams of THC wouldn’t be enough to lure her into a cool, dreamless sleep. So she dug through the little brown vials of oil Myranda had insisted would change her life, in search of lavender. She shook a few drops into her palm and smoothed it through her newly blonde hair — the buttery highlights had been her uncle’s idea — and down her neck.

Her uncle didn’t know about the pot, which gave her a thrill of secrecy she found a bit ironic for a woman in her 20s. But she knew he wouldn’t approve. Another irony since he was the one who’d previously supplied her with Ambien and Valium as casually as Old Nan had plied given her Flintstones chewables. For weeks after venturing into Jojen and Meera’s little collective, the Higher Path — _Ha! —_ she’d kept the pharmaceuticals on hand. Just in case the pot didn’t work. Or the nightmares got worse. Or she wanted something that could really wipe Sansa Stark’s nightmares from her mind…

Tonight — this morning? — she was pleased to realize she didn’t regret throwing them out. She was awake, but she wasn’t filled with dread. And as she flipped her pillow to the cool side, she realized she already feeling a bit looser. Was it actually kicking in or was was it just a psychosomatic reaction. _Does it matter?_  
  
It was almost six o’clock in the morning when Alayne woke again. This time, to the familiar sound of the stray scratching at the backdoor. It was a later addition to the bungalow, put in some time during the 1950s when the building was repurposed as office space. And though she’d been slowly transforming it back into something resembling a home, the odd little door at the edge of what was now her bedroom remained.  
  
At the sound of her pulling on joggers and finding her glasses, the cat began to cry insistently. “You are the worst feral cat I have ever met,” she grumbled. But she opened the door for him anyway and he sauntered past her and into the kitchen, fat black tail swishing dramatically. “Good morning, Stranger.”  
  
With surprising grace for such a large cat, the scruffy Maine Coon hopped onto the counter to supervise as Alayne opened a can of organic cat food. _Pot and essential oils and organic cat food_ , she thought with a smile. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the dark kitchen window and silently added _blonde_ to the amusing list.  
  
Stranger followed her out onto the tiny porch, where he happily lapped at the gelatinous gravy coating his meal. He paused, watchful, as she disappeared inside, and only resumed when she reappeared in a thick hoodie, carrying a fresh bowl of water.

“I missed you yesterday.” He purred in response, though he always purred as he ate. “I was afraid you’d been carried away by coyotes. Or animal control.” She really should get him a collar. Even if she only ever referred to him as “the stray” to other people, she loved the little beast. She trimmed the mats from his thick coat and she’d tried to turn him into an inside cat during the last forest fires. But he was a restless house guest, yowling for his freedom as soon as the sky was relatively clear of ash. As he ran from the bungalow — never once looking back — she wondered if she'd driven him away forever. But the very next morning, he’d returned to demand his breakfast. He’d claimed her as much as she’d claimed him. Yes, a collar would let people know where he belonged. But it might also lead to questions she didn't want to answer.  
  
Pets were allowed at the Vale Studio backlot. The head of post production had a pair of undisciplined chocolate labs that his assistants were forever chasing after. And the actress three seasons into her role as CBS’s favorite sexy detective was rarely seen on the lot without her King Charles Cavalier in tow. But a cat was different. And while anyone who paid attention knew that Alayne Stone kept odd hours in the little bungalow  in between the Bloody Gate and Parking Structure B, few seemed to notice that she’d also been living there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super short chapter just to give anyone interested a taste of the story. The prologue is a bit darker, which is also part of the story. Sansa has been through some shit. But Alayne is dealing. Kind of. I guess it's not really dealing if you're going by an assumed name, avoiding meaningful relationships and have so removed yourself from the real world that you're essentially squatting on a film studio backlot... But Sandor will soon arrive to shake up her life.
> 
> BONUS FUN FACT!  
> The Sweetrobin Bungalow (Alayne's office space/unofficial home) is based on the Shirley Temple Bungalow on the Fox Lot in Los Angeles. It was built for stars under contract and most famously served as Temple's on-the-lot retreat during her years there. 
> 
> We'll get to the Sweetrobin backstory, but in this universe he was a super famous child actor who fell into obscurity as soon as he was no longer a cute kid. You'd be right to assume that his sad story comes with an insane mother named Lysa.


End file.
